


An Old Sweetheart of Mine

by An_Old_Yet_Young_Soul



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Drama & Romance, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Feels, Like, M/M, Sad, i apologise in advance, lots of feels
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-09
Updated: 2017-01-21
Packaged: 2018-09-15 21:28:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9258032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/An_Old_Yet_Young_Soul/pseuds/An_Old_Yet_Young_Soul
Summary: "As one who cons at evening o'er an album all alone,And muses on the faces of the friends that he has known,So I turn the leaves of Fancy, till, in shadowy in design,I find the smiling features of an old weetheart of mine."- James Whitcomb Riley, "An Old Sweetheart of Mine"Not every story is told as it should be. Things are left out, forgotten, washed away by time and faded memory.Catherine Laurie was one such person, forgotten by the waves of time in the glory and scandal of Alexander Hamilton's time.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> STILL ALIVE!!!!!  
> What's up peeps?  
> I'M BAAAAAAACK!!!!!  
> Now, most of you may have noticed, from bookmarking and stalking my favorite stories on here waiting for updates, that I've fallen neck deep into the Hamilton fandom and have started to sink further and further.  
> Before you go any further, let me just point out that this little brain child has been bumping around in my head for nearly a week and I finally decided to write it down. Also, I have no clue what I'mdoing here, though. American Hisory has never been my strong suit. (I grew up in Virginia. The begining of our country started here and it was pounded into my head from an early age. After a while, it gets a little boring.)  
> Now, without further ado, I present to you, "An Old Sweetheart of Mine"

“Pop, who’s Catherine Laurie?” Phil asked as he approached his father, an old letter in his hands.

 

The child looked almost shy, which wasn’t like him at all. then again, he was snooping in the attic where he was told hundreds of times not to play because of rats and spiders and other things.

 

Alexander Hamilton looked up from his writing to look at his bashful youngest child. “Where did you hear that name, Phil?” He hadn’t spoken her name in years, so there was no way he heard it from him. Then he noticed the letter held in his son’s small hands and he smiled. “You’ve been playing in the attic again, haven’t you?” 

 

Phil’s cheeks flushed red. “M-Maybe?”

 

Alexander sighed and lifted his youngest child onto his knee, taking the letter to examine the carefully looped letters, the thin delicate strokes of the pen, and he could remember so clearly the soft hand that had written this letter so many years ago.

 

“Catherine was a friend of mine a very long time ago, before you were born.” 

 

He could remember every detail about her, from the pale pink of her cheeks, the scent of the oil she wore, to the way her voice had sounded. Sometimes, in the odd place between being awake and dreaming, he thought he heard her call his name, or thought he smelled the faintest whiff of peppermint and orange oil.

 

“What was she like, Pops?” Phil asked, fiddling with a loose button on his jacket.

 

Alexander smiled and pressed a kiss to his son’s forehead. “I’ll tell you when you’re older. Now, your mother is putting supper on the table so why don’t you go help her and I’ll be down as soon as I can, alright?”

 

A grin spread across the child’s face and he nodded, hopping off his father’s lap to run down to the dining room and help his mother.

 

Left alone now, Alexander sighed and traced the signature at the end of the letter. Had things gone differently, this letter may never have been written. Had things gone differently, it might be Catherine downstairs instead of Eliza, and their children running down the stairs, despite their mother’s warnings never to do so. 

 

But there was no sense in dwelling on what might have been. So, Alexander put the letter away in the same drawer where he kept John’s and locked it.

 

The drawer wouldn’t be opened again for another year, when Eliza went looking for his last will and testament.


	2. Chapter One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The begining of our story

It was cold. So cold. That’s all Catherine could comprehend. 

All she could focus on was the screaming of the wind, the cold rain stinging her face, and the thunder booming around her. 

So cold, so, so cold….

There was water lapping at the waist of her loose skirt, and she could feel hot tears sliding down her face.

Where was Alexander? Was he alive? That large wave that swept them away, his hand had been holding onto hers. They had been running, trying to get to higher ground to escape the flooding. Where was he? Had he survived that giant wave?

“Alexander!” Catherine called, longing for her dark haired companion. She was scared, cold, and soaked to the bone. “Alexander answer me!”

When no answer came but the screaming wind and driving rain, she shook off her fear and hiked up her skirts as high as she could. She tried to remember Rachel’s words for flooding.

Get to high ground, get ahead of the flooding, stay warm, try to find other survivors.

A wave came crashing into her back, sending Catherine down into the water. She came up coughing and sputtering, struggling to keep her head above water.

The strong vine of a tall building caught her eye, and she swam for it, pulling herself up onto it with a great deal of difficulty. 

Get to the roof, get to the roof and try to get out of the water. That was all she could think as she wrapped her hands around the leafy vine and pulled herself up, praying as she went.

A warm hand grasped her wrist, and Catherine looked up, almost sobbing in relief when she saw the warm, dark eyes of her best friend.

“Alexander!” his name fled her lips with a happy cry as she was pulled up to sit next to him in the middle of the tiled roof. 

Alexander wrapped an arm around his friend, resting his head on her shoulder, “I thought I’d lost you…” he said.

Catherine gave a dry laugh. “And I thought I’d lost you.”

Alexander’s hands grabbed hers, clinging tightly as a crack of thunder sounded above them. They were both trembling, soaked in seawater and rain, and terrified beyond belief.

“I’ve got you, Catherine,” he whispered, “I’ve got you.”

Hours passed in silence, and Catherine looked up at the sky, beginning to weep, her prayers falling from her lips as she curled in towards her friend’s side.

Alexander rolled his eyes and grabbed Catherine’s shoulders, shaking her to snap her back into reality. 

“Get it together, woman!” he snapped, eyes flashing with anger, “God isn’t going to get you out of this situation!”

Silence passed between them, and Catherine drew back her hand and struck him across the face. To Alexander, it shocked him more than hurt him. 

“Just because you’ve lost faith, doesn’t mean I have!” Catherine snapped at him, anger burning in her brown eyes. 

Alexander sighed and hugged her close to his chest, “I know. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have been so cross with you.”

Catherine shivered, wrapping her arms around her friend’s waist, trying to share some of the warmth he gave off. 

More silence. More wind. More rain. For a time, Catherine managed to fall asleep, only to be woken by Alexander.

“Catherine. Stay with me.” he said, giving her a small shake.

Catherine sat up briefly, and gave a scream when she was greeted with the sight of bodies floating in the water.

The young woman tried to scramble down into the water when the body of a friend floated by, but Alexander grabbed her and forced her to stay put.

“There’s nothing we can do for them now.” he said.

Catherine looked at him with broken eyes, looking as if all she wanted was to throw herself into the water and never resurface, but she nodded and sat beside Alexander.

Gradually, the wind stopped, the rain ceased, and light returned to the world.

By the time the storm ceased, both teenagers had fallen asleep curled around each other. Alexander woke first, sitting up and looked up at the sky, searching for clouds. 

Nothing. Just clear, yellow sky, the color of his mother’s favorite dress, orthe orchids that Catherine and he had once seen in a flower shop.

He gave his friend a small shake. “Cat. Catherine, wake up.” 

When he received no response from her, a sharp bolt of terror ran through the seventeen year old. No. No. She couldn’t be dead. not her too. 

But his panic was soothed when Catherine groaned and sat up with a yawn. “What is it, Alex?” she asked.

Alexander blinked and shook his head before pointing to the sky. “Look.”

Catherine turned her head upwards and a look of awe passed over her face. “Is it over?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Alexander?”

“Yes?”

“What’s going to happen to us now?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate this chapter. The first chapter is always hard for me, and this one was really difficult beacuse I had no clue how to start it.   
> I literally have almost everytign for this story planned out, the ending is laready written, but some deatails are fuzzy and not full yet.  
> Be patient with me, dear readers, I'm doing the best I can!


	3. Chapter 2

“Really Alex? Him?” Catherine couldn’t believe what she was hearing. With all the work that had opened up after the hurricane, Alex was going to work for his late-mother’s landlord?

“It’s good work, Cat. It’ll put a roof over our heads and food on the.” Alexander said as he looked around the small shack they’d taken up residence in. 

Catherine had been able to get work at a bakery for a time ,and that was how they could afford to be where they were now. With her wages and his combined, they might make some sort of good profit and keep themselves alive until he could think of something else.

The hurricane had destroyed Catherine’s home and family. Her mother had vanished when the first large wave hit. The flood and the sickness that followed had taken her grandfather, a preacher who, despite his hard exterior, had been a jolly old man, even on his deathbed. Her father had been lost years ago, to drink first and then to the sea when his fishing boat capsized.

“But you hated him! He threatened to turn you and your mother out into the streets!” Catherine tried to argue but she knew there was no point. Alexander would have his way and she would go along with it.

So, they moved their few belongings into a small guest room above the shop where Alexander became a clerk and Catherine went back to her bakery job. 

Every night, she came home smelling of baked bread with a few coins in her pocket and a loaf in her hands, only to find Alexander hunched over the desk and writing by the small flame of a single candle.

When she managed to tear him away from his work long enough to eat the bread she had brought home, they would argue about who would take the thin mattress and who would sleep on the floor. More often than not, Alexander was on the floor and Catherine was on the bed. 

It was a strange life, and gossip flew that they were intimate with one another. Thank God for Alexander’s boss, otherwise they’d have been turned out onto the streets once more.

“They’re good kids that have been through more tragedy than what’s fair for such a short life,” the old man said. It seemed now that he had seen how good of a worker Alexander was and how well-mended his clothes could be for a shiny penny, that the two orphans now seemed valuable to him. “Leave them be.”

From then on, Catherine made sure his clothes were well mended and that she never said a disrespectful word about him again.

One night, the tell-tale scratching of a quill on parchment woke the young woman from her sleep and she sat up, looking around to see where Alexander had gone now.

Sure enough, he was sitting at his desk, which had been moved by the window, and he was bathed in moonlight. No candle. Just his expression as the feather in his hand moved. 

“Alexander.” his name left her lips softly. She had learned that if she called him too loudly, he’d jump and spill the ink and spend the next hour telling her how expensive it was and how hard it was to get ink out of his shirts.

The dark eyed teenager looked up at her and smiled bashfully. “Did I wake you?” he asked.

Catherine shook her head, “No. But it’s late and you should go to bed.”

“In a moment, Cat.”

Catherine sighed and put her head back down, only to sit up and look at her friend accusingly. “You put me in bed!”

“Hush. Keep your voice down. I couldn’t stand to see the bed going to waste is I wasn’t in it. Besides, you need it more than I do.”

No amount of arguing was going to sway him on this matter, so Catherine stood up, gathered her blanket, and plopped herself back on the floor where she had been. Alexander sighed but said nothing and went back to his writing. It was a week later when the door to their little room burst open, followed by a rather excited Alexander, who promptly jumped on the bed and began to try to rouse his sleepy friend.

It was Sunday, and Catherine had no work, so normally she slept until Alex woke her to tell her he would be downstairs in the shop doing inventory if she needed him. Then she would wake up, dress, and go about doing a little shopping with some of the money she had scrounged away.

But Alexander had let her sleep, only to come barging in half an hour later. 

“Cat! Cat wake up!” 

Catherine forced her eyes open, blinking and sighing when she saw Alexander.”Yes?” she asked, sitting up and rubbing her face. 

“The newspaper! They published my letter!” Alexander gave a cry of victory in French and tugged Catherine out of bed. “They paid me! The mayor wants to see me, he said that there was an award or something entitled!”

Catherine yawned. “And you woke me up because?”

“Because I want you to come with me when I go to see what they have for me!”

A sigh left the young woman and she nodded. “Fine. Fine. I’m awake. Now get out so I can get dressed.”

Alexander nodded and scurried off, leaving Catherine to pull herself out of bed and slip on a comfortable light brown dress with a white apron over it. Her dark hair was combed and it was only after that was done that she called Alexander back into the room.

“Yes, Cat?” his hand was clamped over his eyes and he peeked around the doorway. Mishaps of the past always had him do this, as more than once he had been called in to help Catherine untangle herself from rogue garments, and one such story of her hair somehow becoming tangled in her corset stays would become an anecdote they always laughed at.

“Can you braid my hair?” Catherine’ cheeks were tinted pink, but Alexander nodded and gestured for her to sit on the bed as he ran the comb through her long chestnut tresses. 

As children, Alexander’s mother had once told him, “Any woman will fall in love with you if you can braid her hair. So, to help my boy catch a wife, I’ll teach you how.”

So, Alexander grew up practicing on his mother’s hair and on Catherine’s. Now, it was his job and his alone to brush her hair, especially after she had had a bath and her curls were at their worst.

“So, where are we going?” Catherine asked as they made their way down the stairs and out into the street.

Alexander took her arm and laced it through his own, keeping them side by side as they walked in step. “To the mayor’s office. He said he’d meet us there.”

“Us? You mentioned me in your letter?” 

“Did you even read it, Cat?”

Catherine blushed, “Um…”

In truth, reading had never been her strong suit. Alexander had been teaching her as best he could, even had bought her some books for her birthday last year. But, between working and helping in the store when needed, she hadn’t had much time to catch up to where she should be.

Alexander rolled his eyes but said nothing as they continued their walk. By the time they reached the mayor’s office, Alexander was shocked to see his brother, James Hamilton Junior, standing there, looking giddy with happiness, something neither he nor Catherine had seen in quite some time.

“Jim! What’s gotten you so happy?” Catherine asked as he hugged her.

James beamed down at the two, his dark eyes exactly like Alexander’s, their mother’s eyes, and said, “My genius brother!” as he pulled his younger sibling into a friendly hug, before speaking to him in rapid French, too quick for Catherine to follow.

“Inside, the merchants want to see you, Alex. Go, I’ll wait here with your pretty friend.” James gave his brother a sort of encouraging shove into the office ad shut the door behind him.

Left alone, Catherine had nothing better to do than stand there and wait, too shy to make actual conversation with James. He was older than she by nearly thirteen years, and she would be lying if she said she didn't find him handsome in some way. He had grown tall since she had last seen him after the hurricane, and his work as a carpenter had given him the muscle and strength that Alexander lacked.

“How have things been, living with my brother?” James asked, hoping to fill the silence with some conversation. He didn’t approve of Alexander and Catherine living in such tight quarters, but he knew they would be alright. They looked healthy enough, if not a bit thin.

“Well enough,” Catherine answered, “He refuses to take his turn sleeping in the bed so we argue about that a bit, and he’s up at all hours of the night reading or writing. He’s rather smart.”

James nodded, and silence settled in once more. When Alexander exited the office, he looked shocked, as if someone had struck him across the face.

“Alex?” James asked, waving a hand in front of his brother, “Alexander? What did they say to you?”

When Alex, who normally had much to say, simply opened his mouth only to shut it again, James groaned and smacked his brother on the back, hard.

“Speak, man! What did they say?” James said.

Alexander took a deep breath and said, barely above a whisper, “I’m being sent to America. To go to school.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, Alex has a brother.  
> I didn't know this until I read this story here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/8821771/chapters/20226817 and did some research.  
> James Hamilton Junior was 13 years older than Alex, and as far as is known, remained on Nevis for his entire life until his death in 1835. That's gotta suck. He outlived his baby brother by 34 years. Ouch.  
> I also found a letter Alex wrote to James and you can fidn that here: https://founders.archives.gov/documents/Hamilton/01-03-02-0444  
> As always, feedback is apprecited!


	4. Chapter 3

“Beg pardon?” Catherine asked, jaw dropped in shock. She and James looked at each other then back at Alexander, who was now smiling wider than either had ever seen.

Catherine shrieked when Alexander swept her into a dance, spinning them both around wildly while James laughed. 

“America! Can you believe it, Cat?!” Alexander’s face flushed pink all the way to the tips of his ears. “We’re going to America!”

Once the spinning stopped, Alexander turned to look at his brother, who looked as if he was going to say something but was trying not to.

“What is it, Jim?” Alexander asked.

James sighed. “Not to discourage you, Alex, but they said they were willing to send you, not Catherine. She’ll have to stay here.”

Alexander looked at his brother as if he had just told him it was all an elaborate prank. “What do you mean? Of course she has to come with me!”

“Alex-”

“Don’t ‘Alex’ me, Jim! I won’t leave without her!”

“Why? Give me one good reason why you can’t leave her here.”

Catherine could see the fight getting ready to start and the last thing she wanted was for brothers to come to blows so she stepped between them.”Has it occurred to either of you that neither of you asked me? If I’m going anywhere, I’ll be going by my own choice.”

With that, she curtsied to James, said it was nice to see him again after so long, told Alexander she’d see him later that night, and left them standing in front of the mayor’s office.

As she made her way back to their small room, she thought about what had happened to Alexander and how it would affect her. Alexander was the main breadwinner of their little group. She’d probably have to get another job or work really hard on marrying before it was too late. 

Her feet stopped in front of the pawn shop and she thought about the string of pearls resting in her memory box under the floorboards, her grandmother’s pearls, She’d been meaning to save them until her wedding day. But would that day ever come? 

The dark haired teenager stood there for a moment before she made a decision, turning on her heels and heading up to the room. She couldn’t pawn her grandmother’s pearls, but her father’s watch would fetch a handsome price. The man had been a good father, yes, but only when sober. She wanted no memory of him. So, she took her little box out and pulled the golden watch from the box. It was gold, she knew that much, and with a small sigh she stood up, said a small prayer that her mother would forgive her, and ran downstairs and to the pawn shop.

She left the shop ten minutes later with enough money in her hands to purchase passage on the same ship as Alexander. She booked her passage and was packing her things away when Alexander came back to the room around dusk.

He took in the room, at their old things strewn about, and asked what she was doing. 

Catherine smiled at him. “Packing,” she answered.

Alexander looked around the room again. “For what?”

His friend snorted softly and stood up from where she had been on the floor, turning an old pair of Alexander’s breeches, which had grown too small for him almost a year ago, into a bag for him to carry his things in. “I’m going with you, silly goose. You don’t really think I’m going to let you go to another country all by yourself, do you?”

“But...how? You couldn’t possibly have saved-”

“Hush. My father’s watch finally came in hand. Now, do you want to keep this shirt or not? If not, I think I can make something out of it.”

“Cat stop! For a moment, think of what you’re going to be giving up.”

“I’ve given up nothing. We won’t be any worse off than we are here.”

“But your parents-”

“My parent’s are nothing but bones in the graveyard. I am leaving behind nothing and go towards everything. Now, are you going to help me pack or not?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woohoo! Two chapters in one day! Im so proud of myself!
> 
> I know this is short but it seemed like a good place to end the chapter, so there you go.
> 
> Many thanks to TyntaTheFangurl, who has been a very positive reinforcement for me writing this because it makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside when I know I have people reading my stories.


	5. Chapter 4

On the first day, Catherine made a decision. She hated sailing. The ship rocked under her, made her stomach churn, and she spent a good portion of that trip hanging over the railing, retching up her breakfast.

The crewmates looked her up and down and either sneered and muttered about how it was bad luck to have a woman onboard, or they would laugh at how weak she was. She got no pity from anyone but the first mate, a kind boy named Marcus Andrews, whose father owned the ship.

He often brought her hardack and a little water to help sooth her stomach, or he would tell her to keep her eyes on the horizon, and focus on a fixed point.

Needless to say, this aggravated Alexander, and he often could be found grumbling in the small cabin he and Catherine shared.

By the time a week had passed, Catherine had found her “sea legs” as Marcus called them, and was well enough to walk on the deck. But it seemed that her recovering had sapped Alexander of his strength, and their roles were reversed. 

She was now the one soothing him by rubbing his back and holding his hair and he was the one retching over the side of the boat. 

Alexander recovered rather well, but when they were almost to New York, a storm hit.

Storms had never sat well with Catherine and Alexander, and the first crack of thunder sent them both scurrying for cover. The two found themselves squeezed tightly into Catherine’s bunk, arms wrapped tightly around each other as the ship rocked and lurched.

A shout from outside and the sound of water crashing over the deck pitched Catherine into hysterics, which started with trembling and then developed into screaming and crying as Alexander held her to his chest, his own fingers tingly and trembling. 

Focus! he hissed to himself, pushing away the fear rising in his chest. Cat needs you! Look at her, she’s helpless! Get it together man!

With a shaky breath, Alexander began to run his hand up and down his companions back, shushing her softly.

“You’re alright, Cat,” he whispered, “You’re alright. I’ve got you.”

Catherine jumped and whimpered at the sound of the storm outside, sobbing as her tears wet the front of Alexander’s shirt. “I’m so scared, Alex...I don’t want to die out here like my father…” her voice was so silent, he almost didn’t hear it, but Alex held her closer and pressed a soft kiss to the top her head, just above her hairline.

As if shocked, Catherine looked up at him, cheeks red. The two held eye contact for a few moments before another crash of thunder startled them. Catherine jumped, ducking back down as her hands gripped at Alexander’s shirt. She made a small sound, a whimper that reminded Alexander of a kicked dog, and he wound his fingers in hers, prying them away from his shirt before she could tear it.

All through the storm, he comforted her, whispering words of praise and ignoring his own terror until the ship ceased its rocking and the thunder became a faint distant booming.

By the time the ship came into New York Harbor, both Catherine and Alexander were ready to leap overboard. Catherine for wanting to get back onto dry land again, and Alexander to get away from Marcus’s incessant flirting with a rather oblivious Catherine.

Alexander was all too happy to take Catherine’s arm and lead her off the ship with their belongings in hand as she waved goodbye to the captain and Marcus.

It seemed that the islanders that had sent Alexander off with a fond farewell had also set up accommodations for him in New Jersey, a small townhouse where he would stay when classes had finished.

This was where he set Catherine up, with a promise to send her money and to visit, and so it was that Alexander set off to begin his studies, only to return a week later, hissing and spitting like a wounded cat.

Of course, his sudden return had left Catherine baffled, especially when she came home to find him scribbling furiously at the writing desk in the living room.

“Um...Alex? What are you doing back?” she asked, setting down the bundle of mending she’d have to do later that night.

Alexander looked up at her, furious for a moment, before his face softened and he seemed to deflate, resting his head in his hands. For a moment he was silent, until he spoke with a voice that sounded so tired and defeated it tugged at Catherine’s heart. “They revoked their decision. I won't be attending PRinceton after all.”

Catherine gasped and moved to stand beside her old friend, resting a hand on his shoulder. “Did they say why?”

Alexander shook his head and Catherine sighed when she saw the bruising on his right hand. 

“Alexander,” her tone was soft, but the way she said the words said that she meant business,”what happened to your hand?”

The tips of Alexander’s ears went pink and he cleared his throat, “I um...I may have gotten a little out of sorts with the bursar…”

“Alexander!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate this chapter.
> 
> I rewrote it like five times.
> 
> I had an idea, I ran with it, I hit a wall.
> 
> This is the result of me powering thorugh that wall.
> 
> Oh yeah, the Princeton thing? That actually happened. Alex was suposed to go but they changed their minds and said, in short, "If you try to graduate early, you will ieterally work yourself to death and we can't have that so you can't go here."


	6. Chapter 5

Two years, they’d made a living in New Jersey. And now they were in New York. Why, Catherine had no idea. Alexander hadn’t told her.

All she knew was that Alexander was looking for someone named Aaron Burr and had taken off to find him as soon as he had gotten Catherine settled at their room at the inn.

But now the hour was starting to grow late, and Catherine worried for her friend. Often, she would look out the window, searching for him in the crowded streets below, but she would always turn away and huff in annoyance when he wasn’t found.

She was getting ready for bed when the door of their room burst open, and Catherine screamed and held her dress to her body, turning to face the door as she blushed o the tips of her ears.

Sure enough, it was Alexander. but he was obviously drunk, and draped over the arm of another man, one who blushed dark red and covered his eyes.

“B-Begging your pardon, ma’am! I didn’t know he was staying with anyone!” the young man stammered.

Alexander giggled and waved, “Heeey Cat! This is John Laurens! He’s a friend of mine!” the nineteen year old slurred.

Catherine rolled her eyes and sighed. “Thank you for bringing him back, Mr. Laurens.If you would kindly turn around, please.”

John was too happy to oblige.

Catherine pulled her night dress on and turned back around. “Place him on the bed, please, Mr. Laurens.”

John nodded and helped his new friend to the bed, where Alexander promptly muttered something in French and began to snore.

Catherine looked at John, and he looked at her before giving a little bow. “I didn’t know Alexander was married. My apologies again, ma’am.” John said.

The young woman blushed. “Oh! N-No, Alexander and I...we’re not...he’s just my friend.”

John’s eyebrows arched but he said nothing as he bowed again. “I’d best be going. A pleasure to meet you, miss?”

“Catherine. Catherine Laurie.”

John smiled, and kissed her hand. “A pleasure to meet you, Miss Catherine. Here’s hoping our next meeting is under better circumstances.”

“Yes. Good night, Mr. Laurens.”

“Just John, please.”

With that, he left and Katherine was alone in the room with her obnoxiously snoring friend, who she promptly pushed out of the bed, laid him on his side, and covered him with a blanket before saying her prayers and going to bed herself.

The next morning, Catherine came back to the room with small bit of bread and porridge, smiling when she saw Alexander looking downright miserable.

“You certainly had fun last night.” she said as she entered the room and set his plate on the table.

Alexander groaned from his spot on the floor, curled up in a little ball with a blanket over his head. “Sh...soft words…My head is pounding like a drum.”

“Well that’s probably from all the beer you drank last night. You’ll have to thank your friend John next time you see him, although I think seeing me in the nude was payment enough for bringing your drunk carcass back here.”

At her words, Alexander sat up, glaring, “He saw what?”

“He came in when I was getting ready for bed. Now, since you’re well enough to sit up, eat your breakfast.”

“He didn’t...He didn’t try anything, did he?”

He sounded so worried that Catherine just couldn’t resist saying what came out of her mouth, “Oh yes, Alex, he threw you in the floor and ravished me. It was quite pleasant.”

Alexander’s jaw looked as if it had come unhinged it dropped so quick and Catherine laughed. “Relax!” she said, “I’m joking! he came in, dropped you off, apologized and left.”

Alexander glared at his friend. “That wasn’t funny. I like him, it’d be a pity to have to shoot him in defense of your honor.”

“I can defend my honor just fine on my own, Alex. Now eat.”

~*~

“So, how long have you known Alexander?” John asked.

Catherine had joined their little group today for an outing in the city, and was walking side by side with them when John asked.

Catherine did a bit of mental math before answering. “Almost...I’d say ten years, wouldn’t you, Alex?”

“Hm?” Alexander asked. 

“Ten years is about how long we’ve known each other, right?”

“Something like that.”

When Alexander came to a sudden stop in the crowd, Catherine was lucky not to end up in the dirt, since she ran right into him. 

One of Alexander’s friends, Lafayette if she remembered correctly, caught her and set her on her feet. She thanked him and turned to see what had stopped her friend so suddenly in his tracks. A cat? He always did have a liking for the ones back on Nevis. 

But no, this was no cat. This was a person, standing on a box, with paper in hand. Oh Lord, there were only a few ways this could end

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a little bit of fun with this one. Sorry if it's too short. I hate filler chapters.
> 
> Tell me what you think in the comments and if you wanna suggest something for the story, go right ahead cause I'm running on empty with writers block.


End file.
